


Customer Care

by whatabadchoice



Series: Tuesdays [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7842439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel had been with Alphas before. None of them had ever called him that if they could help it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Customer Care

**Author's Note:**

> Actually this was supposed to be twice as long but it turns out my landlord went into my apartment without my permission and left the door open.
> 
> So I gotta go take care of this asshole now

March 26th

“I bet you’re dying to call 1511 back about the newspaper,” Mr. Smith teases, and Castiel laughs more than is strictly necessary at the inside joke. He rolls his eyes, still chuckling, and tries to resist the urge to shove the man leaning over the counter. Sometimes, he gives in. Right now it has only been four minutes since he _accidentally_ touched the back of Mr. Smith’s hand while “dusting” the desk, though, so he refrains. 

Maybe he’s being obvious. What exactly is the timing of casual touches allowed in strictly platonic professional relationships?

Castiel still waits at least twelve minutes between touches, just in case.

“Wow, such disregard for your customers well-being,” Mr. Smith gasps, all wide sparkling eyes and mischievous grins. “I ought to fill out a guest satisfaction survey.”

“I’ll have you know my guests always leave completely satisfied!” Castiel counters haughtily. The implication only hits him afterwards, along with a deep flush across his cheeks. He doesn’t back down though. Instead, Castiel lifts his chin. That’s not what he _meant_. Obviously. (But that doesn’t make it _not true_ , either.)

Mr. Smith raises an eyebrow at that and hums, faux-impressed. Castiel tries not to stare at his lips.

“Oh really?” he says. “You must have an impressive history of _guests_ who have been so thoroughly _satisfied_ in the past then… Guess I’m lucky to be attended to by an employee with such a _strong_ background in guest satisfaction.”

Castiel has become accustomed to Mr. Smith’s teasing; whether it’s about Cas’ bed head, his formal way of speaking, or the expression Mr. Smith has eloquently dubbed the “resting bitch face” he makes when customers are being particularly difficult without reason. However something sour is streaking the way he speaks now, a scent or a tone lacing the words meant to be flippant with underlying emotion. Castiel has never been good at discerning hidden motives, but even he can sense a distrust of Alphas. It’s easy. He sees it in himself every day.

When Castiel doesn’t counter his teasing straight away, Mr. Smith’s expression grows more somber, and he leans back, lifting his elbows from the counter. Castiel tries to think of a way to return back to the easy back and forth they usually stick to, but the mood seems to have shifted. He wonders if Mr. Smith has that same distrust of the biological urges that drive him too.

“Sorry I’ve been takin’ up all your time here,” Mr. Smith says, tone dry as a bone. It’s meant to be polite, joking, but it falls flat. Castiel wracks his brain for an appropriate way to tell Mr. Smith he wishes all his time was taken up by the man. “I guess I should leave you to _satisfy_ your other customers… Alpha.”

Mr. Smith looks down at the ground, flushing at the moniker and biting his lip as if to take it back. Castiel’s eyes have widened, he knows, because his heart stutters in his chest and there is no hiding the wave of arousal that washes over him. 

What? _What?_ What was that supposed to mean? Mr. Smith isn’t meeting his eyes, but the bitter way he uttered it and the curve of his back as if attempting to make himself smaller is throwing Castiel for a loop. Not to mention the fact that he fucking called Castiel _Alpha_.  
_Alpha._

It’s… _wrong_. Castiel struggles to control himself, to explain his reaction. But Mr. Smith can’t be that obtuse. The implications of his posture, and calling someone by their designation… Castiel isn’t made of stone. Although part of him seems to be trying to emulate it pretty well right now.

“Sorry,” Mr. Smith mumbles, shaking his head. The movement just sends more of his scent Castiel’s way, and the combination is confusing. It’s still tinged with the pungent smell of Alpha, but some Omega is also present enough for Castiel to taste it on his tongue. It does not help his situation below the belt.

“No, it’s,” Castiel is frowning, he knows, but he can’t figure out what to say or how this conversation got away from them. Was Mr. Smith offended? Challenged? Was he… jealous? Was the implication that Castiel might have other prospects enough to send him into a fit of anger? Or was Castiel just projecting? Well, when in doubt, default back to professionalism. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to offend. That was highly inappropriate. I apologize. I only meant that I endeavour to provide excellent customer service at all times.”

There is a flash of annoyance, or maybe exasperation in Mr. Smith’s eyes, before he rolls his shoulders back and smiles cautiously.

“It’s alright. ‘Dunno what got into me just then. Just a long day, probably,” Mr. Smith acquiesces, and Castiel breathes a small sigh of relief, despite the feeling of unease this misunderstanding has caused. He still has questions, but he recognizes a brush off when he hears one. “I’m gonna head to bed. ‘S’gettin’ late!”

Castiel smiles sheepishly.

“Yes. I do apologize for keeping you up so late with my rambling,” he says, as he does most nights when Mr. Smith heads to bed. 

“Not a problem, Cas. Always like talkin’ to you,” Mr. Smith counters, and a bit of the tension subsides. Either Mr. Smith has not noticed Castiel’s current predicament, or he is too polite to mention it. 

Once Mr. Smith is safely in the elevator, Castiel releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Well, that was… new.

He should probably start on the morning reports about now, but instead Castiel ponders the interaction some more. Why would Mr. Smith react so strongly to such an innocuous comment? Was it the chin tilt? Did he see it as a challenge? If so, why would he immediately submit afterwards? To avoid confrontation? If anything, Castiel was the one who should be submitting. Out of the both of them, he had much less pull as an _Alpha_ : a dead end job and no mate, barely any prospects, a damaged soul to say the least. Mr. Smith was all easy smiles, charming personality, and blatant success. Always put-together and confident, he was the very picture of a breadwinning Alpha. But…

_“Alpha.”_

God, the way he’d said the word was sinful, and though Castiel’s arousal had since abated somewhat, just the thought of Mr. Smith’s lips forming the word was intoxicating.

Castiel had been with Alphas before. None of them had ever called him that if they could help it.

Although, maybe that was Castiel’s fault, too. Acquiescence was a form of strength. Avoidance had its advantages. At least, that’s what Castiel always told himself. The way Mr. Smith had looked down after challenging him, however, made Castiel want to show everyone exactly who was in charge now. When Castiel had uttered his partners’ designations in the past, it was to placate or distract. But Mr. Smith’s tone had been… assertive. Mocking, almost. But also… God, also _playful_. How can one word have such an effect on him?

Castiel is still rolling it over his tongue silently while he piles the printed audit pack into the accountant’s inbox. He hums to himself as he staples the different papers needed for housekeeping and administration. Well, hopefully his thoughts will keep him occupied at least.


End file.
